


Wild Midgar Nights

by chemiclord



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Fluff and Humor, Friendship, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:15:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23795224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chemiclord/pseuds/chemiclord
Summary: Various drabbles pertaining to the Final Fantasy 7 Remake and the characters therein.  There's not going to be much (if any) continuity; either in the timeline or the characters presented.  Updates whenever the muses speak to me.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 31





	1. The First Night Outside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stopping on the road to Kalm, Tifa and Aeris have a heart to heart discussion that kinda goes off the rails...

Tifa felt she actually did a pretty damn good job making dinner considering all she had to work with was a campfire and a “pot” fashioned from the wreckage of an abandoned truck. But when it was determined that the group wasn't going to make it to Kalm before nightfall, the best course of action was to find somewhere to lay low overnight, and get at least _something_ in their stomachs.

Cloud had been so sweet volunteering to forage, and astonishingly successful in his hunt as well, coming back in an hour with two rabbits, and two pouches stuffed with berries, nuts, and black beans. He even found some sprigs of parsley and three ripe peppercorns for seasoning.

“You'd be amazed at how little provisions Shinra gave even their elite SOLDIERs,” he had replied with a shrug when Tifa had expressed her appreciation for his efforts. “We had to learn these sort of skills if we didn't want to go hungry.”

His ability to get so much food so quickly considering they weren't terribly far from the wasteland around Midgar wasn't something Tifa wanted to let go to waste. It certainly wasn't anything she would have been proud to serve at Seventh Heaven, but all things considered, it was damn near divine intervention that she was able to whip up even a halfway decent rabbit stew.

No one complained, at least, which was better than she expected. Cloud even said that it was the best field rations he ever had, which made her blush even as she knew he had to have been humoring her. She then retreated to the periphery, her own bowl in hand, hoping no one had seen her turn pink like some schoolgirl being invited to the big dance. She crossed her legs, back to the party, and prepared to lift the makeshift bowl up to her lips...

“Hey, Tifa! Whatcha doing all the way over here?”

The bartender nearly spilled her stew into her lap in surprise. Tifa wasn't at all certain how, but Aerith had managed to walk around, lay down prone with her chin in her hands, her feet kicking up playfully as she looked up without Tifa ever noticing.

“Aerith!” she yelped, hand over her heart and gasping down air. “You scared me!”

“You went off into your own little world,” the flower girl replied, shifting positions and matching Tifa's cross-legged pose to get a better eye-to-eye angle. “I got a little worried.”

“Sorry. Just thinking about a lot of things. Kinda zoned out, I guess.”

Aerith nodded. “Yeah. I have too. I'm... a little scared, to be truthful.”

Tifa stopped eating, her hunger forgotten out of worry. “About what?”

The flower girl shrugged. “I... I've always been at ease. All my life, I've had this feeling of, 'everything's going to be all right,' ya know? Even when things were at its absolute worst, I've always felt it was all gonna work out in the end. I always knew what I needed to do at any given moment, always somehow knew just where I needed to be, what I should say... I was never sure exactly where my life was going, but I knew it would be okay.”

Tifa sighed. “I wish I could have that feeling.”

“I kinda hated it,” Aerith admitted. “It felt at times like my life wasn't my own. Like I was on strings, and some mean little gremlin was ordering me around. 'Pick these flowers today, Aerith.' 'Stand here, Aerith, but not too long.' 'Wait here for a cute blonde guy with a big sword and give him your flower, Aerith.'”

Tifa _really_ tried to fight down her own little green gremlin that occasionally liked to poke her. It wasn't right for her to get so mean about Aerith's obvious affection. Tifa wasn't a dog, and certainly didn't mark any territory, for God's sake.

Aerith, for her part, seemed oblivious to the flash of jealously that bled off of Tifa. “Of course, it was never _that_ direct. But the point remains. I felt... trapped.”

The jealousy was immediately forgotten. _That_ was a feeling Tifa understood _far_ too well. “Is _that_ why you were willing to fight those Whispers?”

Aerith nodded, her voice . “I thought... I thought it would be better. But now... I don't know? Now, I just feel empty. The feeling that everything was going to be alright is gone, and now I'm scared. Everything that seemed to make sense is gone, and all that's left is uncertainty.” She stared into Tifa's eyes, the flower girl's pupils trembling. “Did we do the right thing?”

Tifa nodded, trying to project confidence she didn't feel at all. “We have to think so. We all saw the visions, Aerith. I don't know if that was the fate of the Planet, but none of those things looked 'all right.' We gotta take fate in our own hands, and let the chips fall where they may. If it goes to hell, it'll be because _we_ screwed it up, not because some ghostly monster decided that was how things had to go.”

Tifa doubted that would actually help, but bless Aerith for putting up such a good face. Her eyes settled, and with an exhale that looked like it pushed out all the negativity, the bright faced flower girl returned. “You're right, of course! Thank you for listening to silly ol' me!”

“You're not silly at all,” Tifa corrected, picking up her bowl again, lifting it up to her lips and taking another swallow, then caught something out of the corner of her eye that filled her with dread.

Aerith had _many_ different smiles, Tifa had observed, and all of them invoked _very_ different responses from those who saw them. This one was a impish, mischievous grin that made Tifa want to run to the nearest tree, climb to the top, and hide.

“You really should tell Cloud how you feel about him.”

Tifa tried to gasp and swallow at the same time, and that predictably led to a sputtering, choking cough as her insides violently tried to arrange for everything to get into its proper pipe. Aerith started slapping her on the back to assist the efforts.

Tifa gasped down air, then oh so eloquently replied, “What?”

Aerith's gaze turned back to the three boys, Tifa's head following, to a scene with Cloud furiously trying to put out the blaze that was supposed to be the campfire, which was probably why none of the trio had responded to Tifa's distress. Judging from the postures of those involved, and the residual glow around Barret's glove, the larger man had tried to boost the flame with some Fire materia. In addition, Red XIII's angry posture, warning growl, and bent tail suggested Barret had _first_ tried to use the ember on the tip of Red XIII's tail to stoke it.

“About the only one who _doesn't_ see how infatuated you are is Cloud himself,” Aerith continued, her voice playful with just enough of a tease to make Tifa immensely uncomfortable. “He's not going to get the hint. You need to be upfront about your feelings.”

Tifa _really_ wasn't sure she wanted to have _this_ conversation with Aerith. She felt bad enough just with the passive jealousy that would bubble up. This just seemed like a way to invoke a very _active_ jealousy, which would be horrible because Aerith really was such a wonderful person that didn't deserve it.

“Why?” She finally asked. “Aren't _you_ interested?”

Aerith thought about that question _far_ longer than Tifa thought was necessary. It was a pretty simple 'yes' or 'no' question. You're either interested in someone or not; if you had to deliberate over it, the answer was assuredly 'no.'

Or maybe Tifa really didn't have any idea about this whole 'romance' thing. It's not like she even had a _boyfriend_ at any point in her life. Aerith was quite possibly _much_ more versed in matters of the heart, and Tifa probably shouldn't assume that it was as simple as she thought.

“If you had asked me that just a day ago, I would have said 'nope,'” the flower girl finally answered. “One of the feelings that I had along with my general ease was that I really shouldn't get _too_ attached to anybody. The one time I told myself I was going to defy that feeling... he died. I could feel him return to the planet, and it was like fate was chiding me for _daring_ to defy its will.”

Tifa put her hand over her mouth in sorrow. “Oh, Aerith... I'm sorry...”

The flower girl shook her head, not so much to decline Tifa's sympathy, but the one someone did as they were trying to clear their head. “But then... after we defeated the Whispers... I... felt him. Alive... but... it was almost like he was a world away... which didn't make any sense. None of it made any sense.”

Tifa stopped trying to say anything. Aerith didn't seem to be talking to her at this point anyway.

“But feeling him alive... somewhere... has made me feel like I don't _have_ to be guilty about that anymore. Maybe I _can_ let people get close to me. And yes, if the opportunity arises, I'd love to see if Cloud and I could be something more than friends.”

Tifa's heart sank at that admission. There was _no_ way she'd be able to compete with Aerith on that score. She'd lose that battle in an instant.

Then the impish grin returned, and the flower girl said slyly to the bartender, “But... as good friends should, I am compelled to defer to you. And I bet if you were upfront with your feelings, I'd never have a chance.”

Tifa laughed at the absurdity of that idea. “What? No way! I'm not fun or flirty like you, and I'm certainly not pretty and cute or anything!”

Aerith's smile vanished, replaced by a stupefied expression like she hadn't understood a word that came out of Tifa's noise hole. The perplexed, confounded furrow of the flower girl's brows and narrow eyes made Tifa think that she had abruptly spoken in a foreign language.

“Wait. Little Miss Body of a Supermodel doesn't think she's _pretty?”_ Aerith said in a dry deadpan. “Have you _looked_ in a mirror at any point since you moved to Midgar?”

“Of course I have!” Tifa replied. Sure, there were a bunch of people who used to flirt with her at the bar, but those were all patrons trying to butter her up for a discount or a little bit of forgiveness on their tab. There had _never_ been a serious attempt to woo her by someone who wasn't halfway through a bottle in her life!

At that point, she became aware of an abrupt pressure on her chest, and she looked down to see Aerith's hands clamped rather roughly over Tifa's breasts, squeezing twice at that.

“Whoa,” the flower girl whistled. “Those _are_ real.”

Tifa yelped, scrambling out of Aerith's reach, her own arms clutched over her chest protectively. “Of _course_ they're real!” Tifa whined. “What did you _think_ they were?”

Aerith shrugged. “Only time I've ever seen them _that_ big were after some pretty serious... let's say after-market work done for the Honeybee Inn.”

Tifa's heartbeat slowed back to normal and her instincts once again yielded to reason. Boy, would _this_ be a nice little addition to the diary she stopped keeping when she left Nibelheim.

_Today I got felt up by a flower girl. I... didn't entirely dislike it?_

“Tifa! Are you okay?”

The bartender looked up aghast, Cloud hovering over her. While his facial features didn't seem any different than the usual “I just woke up from a sleeping pill overdose” expression he normally carried, she could see the concern in his eyes that made her heart skip a beat, which she really didn't need right at that moment.

“She's fine!” Aerith interjected. “I just startled her. Right, Tifa?”

Tifa was caught between two places she wasn't sure she wanted to be. Aerith... was unnerving her right now, to put it gently. On the other hand, while part of her yearned to have Cloud pick her up like a knight in shining armor and carry her to safety, she was absolutely _terrified_ of it at the same time.

Finally, she decided she was much more equipped to handle the current situation than one dreamed up in the little red books that she read as a guilty pleasure. “Y... yeah,” she said, reluctantly agreeing to Aerith's assessment.

“See?” Aerith said, waving Cloud away with her right hand. “Now we're having some girl talk, so shoo! Shoo shoo!”

The former SOLDIER complied, if warily and with several glances back as he returned to Barret and Red XIII, needing to pull the latter off of the former for a reason Tifa was certain she didn't want to know.

Aerith now had another smile on her face, this one of a wistful happiness as she dropped her chin onto her hands while Tifa rearranged herself back into a comfortable sitting position, at a distance that kept her safely out of Aerith's reach.

“Has anyone ever told you you're beautiful?” Aerith asked sympathetically.

“Not while sober,” Tifa answered quickly, before she remembered one time when Cloud... no, that wasn't what Aerith is talking about. “Yeah. Never.”

“Uh unh,” the flower girl teased, “I saw you think about it. If you have to think about it, it happened.”

Tifa rolled her eyes. “Cloud said it once after I made him a drink, but he was just teasing me because I had been teasing him. He could have just as easily been talking about the drink.”

Aerith lowered her head in a very skeptical expression. “Right... let me ask you some more questions. Did you ever get 'special discounts' or 'complementary items' from shops you visited?”

Tifa blinked. Where was the flower girl going with this? “Well... yes. Sometimes. Sometimes a lot of the time... but they were always nice like that.”

“Ever get people do things for you for no reason? Like... I dunno... do things as a favor that they really don't want to do? Or like open doors for you?”

None of this was making any sense. “It's called being _polite_ , Aerith!”

“Do people tend to talk to you like you're about a foot shorter than you really are?”

“It can be hard talking eye-to-eye with someone. We aren't all like _you_.”

Aerith sighed. “You are _such_ a country girl.”

Why did that sound like an accusation?

“Guilty,” Tifa replied defensively. “Nibelheim wasn't exactly the 'hip place to be,'”

Aerith frowned, “I don't even know where that _is_.”

“To the west, past the Central Sea. Named after Mt. Nibel. About the only thing anyone knew about it was that it used to have an active Mako reactor. Hell, the entire town was built for the reactor. Why are you even asking me all this?”

“Oh, it's nothing,” Aerith said with that tone of voice that suggested it was anything _but_ nothing. “Just tell me about it. I've lived in Midgar most of my life. I've almost forgotten there was a world outside it.”

Tifa didn't entirely believe the flower girl, but she had to admit it was a _lot_ easier of a topic to discuss than her affections for Cloud, so the bartender went with it.

* * *

Cloud again looked back towards the two women. It was silly because he really didn't have any reason to be suspicious of them, but he was concerned nonetheless; especially as they kept talking as the evening started transitioning into night.

“Stop that,” Barret warned.

“Stop what?” Cloud asked, turning his attention to the large man who was carefully stoking the camp fire that they had _finally_ managed to restart without further incident.

“Nothing good _ever_ comes from a man trying to figure out what two women are talking about,” he warned. “Either they're talking about _you_ , which you _never_ want to get in the middle of, or they ain't, in which it ain't any of your business. Got it?”

“I wasn't...”

“You were,” Barret insisted. “Listen, getting between two women is kinda like sticking your hand into a bag that might or might not be full of snakes.”

Cloud had _long_ since given up on waiting for Barret to make sense, and he hadn't been disappointed yet. _“What?”_

“There is _nothing_ that's gonna be in that bag that is worth risking getting snakebit.”

Red XIII raised his head from his front paws, and with an awed voice of surprise the wolf-like being said, “I would never have expected you to possess such a shard of wisdom.”

Barret decided to ignore the jab, instead giving the fire another handful of exploratory pokes. “Yeah, well... we all have our moments.”


	2. Pertaining to Matters of Dress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This shouldn't be hard. Cloud's done this before. He can do it again.
> 
> Right?

Cloud had been able to push the sight to the back of his mind in his worry for Tifa and planning their next step. But now that the next step was “stand here and wait,” it could no longer be ignored.

That thing Tifa was wearing was _barely_ what could be qualified as a dress; instead it was something that blurred the line between public attire and lingerie.

Admittedly, he had made the suggestion. She had noted they “weren't kids anymore,” and damn did she make that much clear. He tried to tell himself that she was trying to pretty herself up for Don Corneo, but the rationalization fell flat. She admitted she didn't have too much in the way of fancy clothes, and likely didn't have the money to spend, either. It really only lent itself to one conclusion.

 _This_ was the dress she had been planning to wear when they “hit the town.”

God help him.

It wasn't helping poor Cloud's blood pressure that Tifa wore it _extremely_ well. Not that it was _hard_ for the bartender to wear something well. She'd make a burlap sack look ravishing. And while Cloud was dubious that she had a color that was “wrong” for her; the rich, vibrant blue-violet of the dress she chose was definitely the _right_ one; striking and complimenting its wearer exceptionally.

It needed to be, because otherwise Cloud probably wouldn't have remembered the color at all thanks to the woman wearing it. It had a neckline that technically would be called “plunging,” but really it was more like a spelunking neckline, dipping damn near to the bottom of her rib cage. He couldn't decide if the slightly visible undergarment for... support... was due to an imperfect fit or intentional.

Eventually, his brain decided that it didn't really matter. It worked regardless. His heart rate was having a hard enough time keeping up as it was.

Because the “support” that the undergarment was offering had been very cleverly designed to enhance the wearer's bust, and frankly, Tifa didn't particularly need much, if any, enhancement to begin with. The thick line of cleavage that frequently formed as a result made Cloud _extremely_ grateful that he was taller than her, so that it wouldn't be _too_ obvious if his eyes drifted down.

And there wasn't any reprieve for his poor heart even if his eyes went further down. That skirt was a skirt in name only. Cloud had seen _shirts_ that fell further down the hips than that. He hoped she was wearing modest panties, because all it would take was a gentle breeze to give anyone within eyesight a show.

Then again, they might have been so lost in her legs that went on for half past forever to even notice. He _knew_ those legs served a deadly purpose, and were finely honed weapons every bit as dangerous as his buster sword. And even _with_ that knowledge, the impeccable tone of her calves and thighs amplified by the matching heels she was wearing were offering an entirely different definition of "dangerous," one that was making his blood boil.

He was just a man, Tifa! What had she been planning to do to him had their night on the town happened as designed? Would he have even _cared?_

Probably not. They were in the middle of a den of arguably the most powerful man in the slums, a man who held life with no sanctity, and even _now_ he was enthralled. Had this been an actual... date? He'd be putty in her hands.

Fuck.

His mind abruptly flashed to Barret, who's last minute decision to attack the Sector 5 reactor had altered Cloud and Tifa's plans. Bastard. Mr. Gun Arm was going to be lucky if Cloud didn't deck him into next week when they crossed paths again.

He spared a quick glance in Aerith's direction, hoping that the flower girl didn't think he was being weird staring at Tifa like some sort of hungry wolf. Instead, she flashed a smile and a subtle appreciative nod. At least he knew that he wasn't off base.

Finally, Tifa threw her arms out, shifting her body to give Cloud a good view at multiple angles. She grinned as he bit back a groan, his eyes immediately locking on to the subtle jiggle of her breasts as she turned from side to side.

“Well?” she asked, daring Cloud to say what was on his mind.

Cloud took a breath, trying to get his mind to pull itself together long enough to say something. He could _do this,_ especially considering she was literally _inviting_ him to flirt with her. He only needed one word at the bar in Seventh Heaven to get her hot and bothered.

But he couldn't just call her “beautiful” again. Firstly, that wouldn't even come _close_ to doing her justice right now. Secondly, he couldn't use the same line twice. He tried to force some focus, telling himself to think. Just one line! That's all he needed!

He was so busy trying to think of something that he lost the moment. Tifa dropped her arms, frowned ever so slightly, and asked, “No?”

Damn it.

Nothing Cloud came up with at that moment was going to get that magic back, and he gave up trying. Of all the times to turn back into his awkward, shy, pathetic old self...

At that point, it was a _mercy_ that they were called up to meet the Don, sparing Cloud from having to wallow in his failure. Yes, that was the ticket. Focus on the mission. Then hope and pray that everyone involved forgot about this entire damn debacle.

Cloud took the lead, ushering them forward with a quiet order, “All right, guys. Let's do this.” Ignoring any further questions, he didn't even look back, desperate to get this over with more than anything else.

* * *

Tifa _also_ managed to force back current events. Regardless of Cloud's reaction to her dress... that she had _carefully and painstakingly chosen for their night out... that she had spent three thousand gil on that she couldn't really afford to spend..._

And to be fair to Cloud, it wasn't his reaction, or lack thereof, that bothered her. She had worried when she bought the damn thing that it was... too much. But the tailor had been _so certain_ it was perfect for her that she surrendered to the dress maker's expertise. Cloud was probably aghast, thinking she was some floozy that had been planning to sleep with him at the end of the night. Of course he didn't want to say anything!

No. It was something else entirely that upset her, and Aerith cut right to the point.

The woman sided up to Tifa, leaned into the bartender's ear, and whispered, “So... when are we going to address the fact that Cloud looks hotter than the both of us?”

 _That_ was the problem. “I'm trying not to be annoyed by that, thank you very much.” It wasn't fair that Cloud got her blood pumping by just being him. Now she had to be jealous of the fact that he was sexier than her too.

It wasn't fair _at all_...


	3. Friends and Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being a Turk was more than just a job... no matter what Reno would say publicly.

The nuances of the SOLDIER program were so convoluted that even Reno forgot how that regiment worked, and it was his fucking _job_ to know. Well, he was getting a refresher course very quickly with his research into their latest “first class” problem, a problem he finally had time to really dive into now that he was on medical leave on account of his injuries.

And damn did that asshole _really_ work both him _and_ Rude over. In two fights with that spiky haired shithead, Reno broke bones he didn't even know _existed_ . Rude's rib cage was apparently more like rib _paste_. Yeah, the asshole had help for the second fight, but Reno wasn't going to pretend that the bulk of the damage didn't come from that mako-eyed freak.

He didn't like losing, even if they won the battle in the end. And losing _twice,_ to a SOLDIER or not, irritated him to the point of obsession. And as his e-mail flashed with the latest dead end, it was an obsession that probably wasn't ending any time soon.

He frown at his laptop screen, and said with a defeated sigh, “Well, Rude... as much as I hate to admit it, our little first class friend probably _is_ ex-SOLDIER after all.”

“Hmm?” Rude hummed in query from the neighboring bed in the recovery ward they were assigned to, looking up from the book he had been reading. Poor guy wasn't even allowed to sit up for prolonged periods for another couple days at least. Reno _almost_ felt sorry for his partner until he remembered that Rude was the reason they were _in_ this place to begin with.

“As far as I can tell, this guy doesn't exist.”

Rude simply replied, “Ah,” then went back to reading.

SOLDIER, in many ways, was both the world's worst kept secret, and also it's best. While damn near everyone _knew_ about the mako-enhanced men and women of the unit, the unit itself didn't _officially_ exist. And if you weren't one of the small handful that became renown for their actions in combat, Shinra wasn't going to acknowledge who you were or what you were doing.

And if that wasn't bothersome enough, even though SOLDIER was obviously a military unit in every practical way, they _weren't_ under the auspices of the Public Safety _or_ Weapons Development Divisions. They were _actually_ under the banner of the Science and Research Division, which meant getting any information about one of their members meant dealing with Hojo, a man who Reno would have been fine throwing in front of a train... and that was on a _good_ day. Mostly because Hojo would happily invite you to read a report, knowingly giving you a link to a file that doesn't exist.

Like the geneticist did just now.

Even the Turks, who literally had scouting and acquiring talent for the division in their job description, were not allowed to know who was in the program, or what had happened to those recruited. That someone _that_ good at kicking ass didn't have a dossier a mile long really limited the options of where he came from.

“Is that going to be a problem in the future?” Rude asked. The darker skinned man _really_ didn't understand Reno's obsession, and made no bones about expressing his disinterest.

Reno shook his head, “Nah... well, provided my partner's _hand doesn't slip next time._ ”

Rude grunted disdainfully, and that gave Reno the excuse he needed to _really_ let his partner have it. “Oh no, you don't just get to wave _this_ one off. I don't know _how_ you could tell that chick was a cutie from what must have been a fraction of a second glimpse out of the corner of your eye...”

“She _was_ cute, though,” Rude interjected.

That was the understatement of the year. “Well yeah...” then he mentally slapped himself back onto the rails and regaining his anger, “ _But that's not the point!_ These people were trying to _kill us_ , partner! If you keep pulling your punches every time you see a pretty face, you're going to get us _both_ killed!”

“ _She_ didn't want us dead,” Rude said simply, like it was common knowledge, no longer even rewarding Reno with eye contact. “I can't speak for the other two.”

Reno's jaw dropped momentarily, then he snarled, “And how the _hell_ would you know that?”

Rude _finally_ put his book down on the end table to his right, and gave Reno his full, undivided attention. “Unlike people who use weapons in combat, who let the tools speak for them, pugilists like myself and our enchanting Avalanche beauty don't have that luxury. Our emotions are worn directly on our fists, and someone with that understanding can read them just as easily as if it was on our face. She was pulling her punches, looking to disable rather than kill. I was merely responding in kind. I had no problem trying to put craters in the skulls of the brutes accompanying her, as you should have seen.”

Reno was flabbergasted. While he _knew_ Rude had some strange philosophies, he always seemed to forget just how out there his partner could be. “Of all the cockamamie bullshit you've...”

The berating was interrupted by the click of their ward door opening, Reno quickly shutting up because he knew that the number of people who were allowed inside without getting cleared by one of them were _very_ small.

His suspicions were confirmed when their boss pushed open the door. But it was the person who _followed_ him that got Reno's attention. A petite blond girl with cropped blonde hair with long bangs swept to the right, and light brown eyes. She was wearing the telltale black suit with white trim of a Turk, but he didn't recognize her.

“Who's the newbie, boss?” Reno asked.

Tseng shot him a glare. “We'll get to that. First off, I'm glad to hear you're both recovering.”

“Gonna take a bit more than some SOLDIER to keep us down for long,” Reno replied.

“And _that_ was another matter I was to bring up,” Tseng added, his gaze piercing through Reno's skull. “On orders from President Rufus Shinra and Director Hojo, you are to cease and desist any further queries into our unidentified, _presumed_ SOLDIER.”

Nonetheless, Reno _tried_ to weasel something out of Tseng. “You know damn well we need to know what we're getting into if we're going to have a chance, boss.”

Tseng looked extremely annoyed, but Reno had a feeling that it wasn't at him specifically. “Assume and act as if the man is an ex-SOLDIER, First Class, with any and all abilities that such operatives can have. That's the best I can do for you. _My_ bosses weren't even willing to give me _that_.”

Well, that wasn't shady as hell, and if Reno needed more evidence that Mr. First Class was indeed first class, that would have been plenty. Shinra didn't want _anyone_ to know that one of their most elite specialists had shook his leash, not even their own people.

“I trust this won't be an issue in the future?” Tseng asked with the sort of tone that knew it wasn't a question.

And Reno surrendered with a defeated sigh, “Yeah, yeah. Sure thing, boss.”

“Good,” Tseng said, and turned slightly towards the still unidentified woman. “And with that out of the way, we can get to introductions. With both of you on leave, Director Heidegger has authorized a career conversion for several new prospects to full status within the department. One of them has been given assignment to assist you two once you have both recovered. Elena, if you would?”

The waif of a girl stepped past Tseng, and said with a distressingly fake smile. “Hey! I'm Elena, and I just want to say it's an honor to be working with such highly regarded professionals...”

Reno groaned, “For god's sake, drop the act! Even _Rude_ can tell it's bullshit. If I wanted fake sugar, I'd drink that damn diet soda the nurse keeps trying to give me.”

“Hey...” Rude said in protest, but stopped when Elena responded.

The curtain dropped, and the image underneath was more what Reno was looking for. Stern and annoyed at being interrupted. “Fine, _sir_... I may be new to the division, but rest assured that you won't need to worry about me. You're not going to find a better recruit in this entire city.”

Tseng nodded. “Five elite emblems coming out of the academy, if you must know.”

Reno had to admit that _was_ impressive, though he wasn't going to show it. Not like he could have earned five if he had tried... and he hadn't. “Oh goodie for us, good to know she can shoot holes in VR targets...”

Any further quip ended in a hiss as she dropped her boot on his ankle, her heel grinding right into the nerves along the bone protrustion. “Hand to hand combat too. In two disciplines. Probably wouldn't make much difference if I cracked a couple more bones, considering what you've got already.”

Tseng couldn't _completely_ hide the amusement in his voice. Bastard. “Elena. Stand down.”

She complied, and her posture softened, even if she was still glaring daggers at Reno. Contrary to what she might think, that was a _good_ thing as far as Reno was concerned. He didn't want some happy little grunt. He wanted people who could stand up for themselves, even to “authority.” People willing and able to think on their own.

Because Turks couldn't afford to play by the rules.

“Elena, I will meet you outside in a moment,” Tseng ordered then offered in parting once the girl had left the room, “Once you have both been cleared to return to duty, I'll officially give the three of you your next assignment. But _unofficially,_ I'd recommend you prepare for some time away from Midgar, as it would appear our Avalanche friends have fled the city.”

Rude nodded, and asked, “I assume the same rules pertaining to the Ancient apply?”

Tseng took a deep breath. Whatever he was about to say, he didn't like it. “No.”

Reno's eyebrows raised. “Whoa. _Something_ changed.”

Tseng closed his eyes, fists clenched. “The new President Shinra has decided Aerith is expendable. He has little interest in the 'fairy tales,' as he put it, that his father ascribed to. You are... expected to kill her on sight just as readily as anyone else in Avalanche.”

Reno no longer was talking to his boss. He was talking to his friend that he had known for years. “Yeah. But what do _you_ want?”

Tseng looked like he was about to cry. “What I want is irrelevant. You'll have your orders.”

The leader of the Turks spun about on his heels, and took hold of the doorknob. He paused, then offered one final piece of instruction.

“Oh, and Rude? Elena is off limits.”

Reno laughed loudly, even as he then hissed in pain afterwards. Rude threw out his hands in annoyed protest and said, “What? So a man can't simply appreciate the fairer sex anymore?”

“Just covering my bases. And as a friend rather than your leader... get well soon.”

“Sure thing,” Reno said with as much earnestness as he could muster. Because it was true. The Turks were more than just co-workers. They were a family too, especially for those who didn't really have one.

Like himself.


End file.
